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His gun barrel’s hotter
As Missouri gets colder
Protecting the man with the world on his shoulders

His long hair like midnight
But sorrow’s turned it grey
The eagle has flown but the raven remains

One soul tormented
One wild heart rent
His temper grows sharp as Indian flint

An angel when he’s smilin’, a devil when he ain’t
Sometimes a sinner, always a Saint

Porter, can you help me
Four riders have taken
My only 30 cows, winter’s comin’, we won’t make it
A ghost in the saddle
Disappears in the night
He’ll pick up their hoof prints in morning’s first light

He rides in one week later
With 4 horses and my cows
Porter’s my sword of reckoning now
Porter’s my sword of reckoning now

Repeat chorus

words and music by Jason Deere

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